


Brimnes

by niniblack



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Charles You Slut, IKEA Furniture, M/M, PWP, Power Tools, Topping from the Bottom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 21:52:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4641537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niniblack/pseuds/niniblack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>You can’t fuck Erik</i>, Charles tells himself. <i>You don’t have a bed to fuck him on.</i></p><p><i>Yet</i>, a helpful little part of his brain supplies. He’ll have a bed as soon as Erik is done putting it together.</p><p>(Charles and Erik build an Ikea bed and then fuck on it. That's it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brimnes

**Author's Note:**

> From this [“imagine your OTP” post](http://huxleypearl.tumblr.com/post/127401825146/otp-au-ideas) that showed up on my dash.
> 
> Prompt: Its like 3am and I’m exhausted and I can hear you raging next door about failing at putting an ikea bed together so here I am helping you put it together and holy shit you’re cute.
> 
> Also Erik being a carpenter is canon.

Charles normally thinks of himself as a very level-headed and calm person, but that was before Ikea came into his life. Now, he’s decidedly _not_ level-headed and calm had gone out the window as soon as he unpacked the box this cursed bed came in.

None of the pieces fit. He’s put together the frame twice now and the first time the boards for the mattress were too short--or the frame was too wide, Charles isn’t really sure--so he’d redone it and this time the bottom board won’t fit _anywhere_. It shouldn’t be this hard. The little cartoon instruction man made it look easy. Just put this screw here and connect this board to that one and why was none of this shit labeled?

A loud knock on the door distracts Charles from throwing the toolbox against the wall. Who would be coming over at… he’s lost his phone. He has no idea what time it is. Late, probably, since he’d started this after dinner and now that he’s thinking about it he’s hungry again.

There’s another knock and Charles scrambles up, stepping carefully around all the boxes in his apartment to get to the clear space by the door.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” the man at the door demands as soon as Charles opens it. “Some of us are trying to sleep.”

“Well so am I,” Charles says hotly. “But first I have to put this stupid bed together and it’s impossible. None of the pieces fit and none of the screws work and there are no words on the instructions and I can’t…” He stops himself, because the stranger is looking at him like he’s insane. “That is, I have to put together this Ikea bed or I don’t have anywhere to sleep.”

Charles had considered just sleeping on the mattress on the floor, but that seemed too much like admitting he’d been defeated by mass-produced Swedish furniture.

“What’s wrong with your couch?” the man asks. Now that Charles is looking at him, he’s rather handsome for someone who just showed up at his door in pajamas and with a kind of adorable case of bed head. Tall with short hair and blue eyes and a square jaw and obviously well built if the way his t-shirt is stretched over his biceps is any indication.

Charles opens the door wider and points to another Ikea box. “I haven’t put it together yet.”

The man sighs. “Do you have tools?”

“Tools?”

“Oh god,” the man groans, looking exasperated. “What are you trying to assemble it with?”

“I have the tools from Ikea,” Charles says.

The man sighs. “Wait here,” he says, turning around and stalking back down the hall.

“Wait!” Charles calls after him. “Where are you going?”

“To get my tool box,” the man says, his tone implying that this should be obvious.

Charles frowns. “Why?”

“To help you,” the man says slowly, tone now implying that Charles is an idiot.

“You’re going to help?” Charles asks, surprised. That’s not at all what he was expecting when he opened the door.

“I would like to get to sleep sometime tonight, so yes.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Charles tries to protest. He feels like he needs to give a token one at least, even though internally he wants to kiss this man in gratitude.

“I’ll be back with tools,” the man says, heading back down the hall.

He must live downstairs, Charles thinks, after he disappears around the corner of the stairwell. He waits, halfway into the hall and half in his apartment, wondering if he should go back in and close the door or if standing here in the hall waiting is more polite. His mother never taught him the etiquette for how to treat handsome strangers who helped you put together furniture in the middle of the night.

The man returns quickly, carrying one of those old fashioned metal tool boxes in one hand and a plastic one in the other. “Power drill,” the man says, holding the plastic box up.

“Oh, that will be helpful,” Charles says, trying to sound like he knows what he’s talking about. If a drill is good then a power drill must be better, right?

“Bedroom?” the man asks.

“Uh, yes,” Charles says, pointing towards the door to the bedroom. He pulls the apartment door shut behind them and finally says, “I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Erik,” the man--Erik--says. He’s already surveying the mess Charles has made of the bedroom, pieces of furniture scattered everywhere.

“I’m Charles,” Charles says. “I have the instructions,” he says quickly, digging them out from under one the boards. “They aren’t very helpful.”

Erik grunts and takes the instructions from Charles, flipping back to the first page. He looks down at the remains of Charles’ last attempt and says, “Start sorting these out. Long boards over here, short ones there, screws here.”

Charles does as he’s told, disassembling some of the pieces he had put together earlier in order to put them all into neat piles, sorted by size.

“Okay,” Erik says. “Hand me one of those.” He points towards one pile, already picking up another board himself and reaching towards the screw pile to find the right one.

Charles wonders how he went this long in life without realizing that men wielding power tools were this sexy. Erik looks strong and confident as he deftly fits each board together, switching between using the drill and something he had called a socket wrench. Using the socket wrench involves a lot of flexing his bicep.

“So, do you put together a lot of Ikea furniture?” Charles asks.

Erik looks up at him, one of those little metal wrench things Charles can’t remember of the name of between his teeth. Erik takes it out of his mouth, flicking it between his fingers instead, and says, “No, but I build real furniture sometimes.”

“This bed is real,” Charles says. “It has all the required bed parts. Or it will, once it’s put together.”

Erik rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. He looks even more handsome when he smiles, Charles thinks.

“Did you buy only Ikea furniture for your whole apartment?” Erik asks.

“The catalog looked nice,” Charles says defensively. “It was very clean and modern. When I was growing up our house was filled with antiques so I wanted something different.”

“Hand me one of those screws,” Erik says, then he asks, “Where did you grow up?”

“Westchester,” Charles says. “About an hour north of here.”

“Where’d you get the accent then?” Erik asks, not looking away from where he’s using the wrench.

“Oh! We lived in London when I was younger; my mother’s British. And then I went back there for school, so I’ve only just moved back to the States.” Charles pauses, then says, “Your accent isn’t American either.”

“German,” Erik says. He doesn’t offer any more explanation than that.

Charles searches around for a new topic, picking up one of the screws and twirling a nut onto it. Eventually he asks about what Erik does for a living, besides being an apparent expert at building Ikea furniture, and finds out that Erik is an architect. He also finds out that Erik likes spy movies, thai food, running, and that he lives directly below Charles and has been in this building for three years now. Erik is surprisingly easy to talk to.

Charles keeps handing Erik pieces when asked and otherwise keeps out of the way unless Erik asks him to hold something. The bed is coming together much faster than he ever thought it could and Charles almost wishes it would take longer so that he could keep talking to Erik.

When they have the outside of the frame completed, Charles decides it’s time for a break. “Do you want a drink?” he asks.

“What’ve you got?”

Charles makes his way around boxes to get to the bar, which was the first thing he’d unpacked. He had priorities. “Just about everything, including a rather nice scotch. There’s beer in the fridge too.”

“I’ll take a beer,” Erik says.

Charles grabs two beers and brings them back to the bedroom. Erik is leaning against the wall, knees drawn up and arms hanging down between them. He takes the beer when Charles holds it out to him, taking a long drink.

“I really can’t thank you enough for helping,” Charles says, dropping down onto the floor cross-legged. “You didn’t have to.”

“I couldn’t sleep with you banging about up here anyway,” Erik says. He’s got a bit of a smile on his face, so Charles doesn’t try to apologize again.

Erik takes another long drink of his beer, head thrown back, and Charles watches the way his throat works to swallow and suddenly it’s just a bit too warm in this room. Charles takes a drink of his own beer and tries to ignore his actually not so sudden desire to kiss Erik’s neck and leave a tiny bruise behind. If he’s honest with himself, he’s wanted to kiss Erik since he showed up at his door looking like he just rolled out of bed.

_You can’t fuck Erik_ , Charles tells himself. _You don’t have a bed to fuck him on._

_Yet,_ a helpful little part of his brain supplies. He’ll have a bed as soon as Erik is done putting it together.

Suddenly feeling much more motivated, Charles finishes his beer and says, “Let’s get this done.”

Some time later Erik says, “Okay, time for the mattress.”

The frame actually does look sturdy, and more than that it looks like it’s the right size. They drag the mattress into place and Charles gazes upon their accomplishment.

“Try it out,” Erik says.

Charles perches on the edge of the bed, bouncing a bit and grinning when it holds his weight. He flops back, bouncing again, and sprawls across the mattress. When he looks over a Erik he has his arms crossed and a proud smile on his face.

“Come here,” Charles says, holding out a hand. “We have to make sure it will hold two people.”

“Planning on having a lot of company?” Erik asks, eyebrow raised.

“Well if you want to come over again…” Charles says with a smirk.

Erik looks surprised, so Charles grabs his hand and pulls him down onto the bed as well. Erik lands with an _oof!_ Charles sits up a bit so that he look down at him and says, “That is, if you want to.”

Erik seems to be getting over his surprise quickly. He’s staring at Charles lips, and Charles makes a point of licking them. Erik’s eyes eventually make their way back up to meet Charles’, and he says, “I definitely want to.”

Charles smirks and leans down to kiss him. It starts out fairly chaste, but soon it’s an absolutely filthy kiss and Charles has moved to straddle Erik’s hips. Erik has a scruffy bit of beard that’s scratching against Charles’ cheeks as he leans down over him, hands braced on either side of Erik’s head, and works his way from Erik’s lips down to the neck he’d been thinking about earlier. Charles sucks lightly, right under Erik’s jaw, and Erik groans, tipping his head back further to give Charles better access. Charles takes that as encouragement and bites down a bit before moving further down.

Getting Erik’s t-shirt off reveals that it’s not only his arms that are well defined. There doesn’t appear to be an ounce of fat on him anywhere, and Charles takes his time kissing and licking his way down Erik’s chest. When he gets to the waistband of his sweatpants, they’re already tented. He doesn’t waste anytime tugging Erik’s sweatpants down, discovering as he does that Erik’s not wearing underwear, and revealing his… really rather huge cock. Honestly, how was he hiding that, Charles wonders. 

Charles apparently pauses too long, because Erik says, “For the love of god, don’t stop now.”

Charles smirks up at him. “I wasn’t planning on it.”

He strokes a hand up Erik’s cock, taking his time but with his grip firm, and Erik throws his head back again with a loud groan. Charles gives it a couple more strokes before leaning to lick experimentally at the head. Erik jerks under him and Charles takes it as encouragement, kissing sloppily from the base of Erik’s cock up to the tip before taking it into his mouth.

Erik’s buried his hands in Charles’ hair, pulling lightly but not trying to force him down. Charles wishes he’d pull a bit harder, actually, but he’s not going to stop to say that. He keeps up sucking Erik’s cock, one hand working what he can’t fit in his mouth and the other keeping Erik’s hips pressed down, until Erik’s making incoherent breathy noises above him.

Charles pulls back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, sitting up on his knees and looking down at Erik, still gasping for breath. It’s a good look on him.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Erik finally says.

Charles tugs his t-shirt off in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. Erik’s hands are already working on the button of his jeans, undoing it and sliding the zipper down easily. It gives him enough room to shove his hands down the back of Charles’ pants, gripping his ass firmly.

“Still too many clothes,” Erik says.

“Then do something about it,” Charles tell him.

Erik gives Charles’ jeans a sharp tug, pulling his boxers down at the same time. They get tangled around his knees, and Charles obliging shifts over until he can kick them the rest of the way off. Erik does the same with his sweatpants and then he’s pulling Charles back over to him. Erik’s hips jerk upwards, his cock dragging against Charles’ thigh.

“I want you to fuck me,” Charles says, grinding down against him. His hands are splayed over Erik’s chest and he moves again, Erik’s cock rubbing against his ass.

Erik’s eyes are wide as he nods. Charles grins. Then he realizes that he hasn’t unpacked lube yet. Fuck.

Erik must pick up on where Charles’ thoughts have gone because he props himself up on his elbows and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“The lube is still in a box somewhere,” Charles says. “So are the condoms.”

Erik flops back onto the bed with a groan. “We don’t have to--”

“No, no! I can find it,” Charles insists. He climbs off the bed, surveying the boxes along the wall. He desperately wants Erik’s cock inside him and he is going to find that damn lube. It’s here somewhere.

Charles shoves one box to the floor. There’s a worrying breaking sound that he ignores, because the box underneath it is labeled DO NOT OPEN RAVEN! so Charles is reasonably sure it’s where he packed things he doesn’t want his sister to see, which would include the things he normally keeps in his nightstand.

Erik helps by handing him scissors and Charles crouches down to tear into the box, emerging a minute later, triumphant and holding a bottle of lube in one hand and condoms in the other. “Found it!”

Erik’s laughing when Charles turns back around. “My hero,” he says. Then Erik grabs Charles’ arms and pulls him into a kiss. Charles smiles into the kiss, draping his arms over Erik’s shoulders and keeping a hold on the lube and condoms. He lets Erik push him back towards the bed and scoots until he’s lying roughly in the middle.

Erik takes the lube from him and warms a bit between hands before stroking a hand over Charles’ cock. Charles makes a thoroughly embarrassing “Ungh!” noise and Erik grins. Charles grabs the back of his neck and pulls him down into a kiss. Erik keeps working his cock until Charles pulls back and says, “Come on, I didn’t find that lube for nothing.”

Erik moves his hand lower, fondling Charles’ balls and teasing at the skin behind them before finally running his finger over Charles’ hole. He circles his finger there until Charles is just about to tell him to get on with it again, then starts working one finger in.

Charles can feel himself clenching and forces his body to relax. Erik takes his time working him with first one finger, then two, before finding his prostate. “Ungh,” Charles says again, legs falling further open. “Do that again,” he gasps out.

Erik does.

He keeps fingering Charles until Charles can’t stand it anymore and reaches for the box of condoms to shove it at him. Erik pulls his hand away and Charles feels a bit empty, waiting impatiently for Erik to get a condom on, then Erik asks, “You okay?”

“I’m am more than okay,” Charles says. “I will be even better once you’re fucking me.”

“Okay then,” Erik says. His cock nudges at Charles’ ass, and he reaches down to line himself up. Then he’s pushing in.

Charles groans at the initial stretch, just this side of the pain-pleasure mix, then gasps open mouthed when Erik bottoms out. The full feeling is wonderful, and he raises one knee higher to give Erik better access. Erik hooks his fingers under Charles’ knee, holding him there and open, and Charles tells him, “Move.”

Erik fucks him slowly at first, then Charles starts snapping his own hips up to meet and Erik increases the pace. The wet slapping sound of their bodies is loud in the otherwise silent apartment and only becomes more obscene as they start really going at it. Charles’ new headboard is banging against the wall and the bed is squeaking loudly. The saleslady hadn’t mentioned the squeaking being a problem, but to be fair Charles hadn’t asked about it either. He’s going to have to do something about that.

All thoughts of the squeaky bed vanish when Erik hits his prostate again. “Fuck. Right there,” Charles says. “Keep doing that.” He reaches up to grip at Erik’s hair, pulling him down for a gasping, open-mouthed kiss.

Erik fucks him harder, if anything, which Charles hadn’t even thought was possible. Charles reaches down to start jerking himself off and he can feel his orgasm building. Which is, of course, when there’s a particularly loud squeak from the bed and the mattress suddenly drops two feet with a bone jarring thud.

Charles stares up at Erik, who is frozen above him looking equally as shocked as Charles feels. When Charles looks around he can see that the bed they’d just spent all night constructing has collapsed around them. Erik starts to move back and Charles groans as Erik’s cock shifts inside him. “Keep going,” he says.

“What?” Erik asks. “We just broke the bed.”

“I don’t care. Don’t stop,” Charles tells him. “Don’t you dare.”

Erik laughs. “We broke the bed,” he says again.

“We can deal with that later. Keep going.”

Erik moves again, shoving back into him, and Charles runs one hand down Erik’s back, scratching with his nails, and snaps his hips up to meet Erik’s at each thrust. Soon enough their momentum is back and Charles is coming first, jerking in his own hand and coming over his stomach. Erik thrusts into him a couple more times before coming as well, head dropping down to rest on Charles’ shoulder as he groans.

They lie like that for several minutes, just breathing, then Charles winces as Erik pulls out. Erik gets up, heading towards the bathroom. Charles hasn’t managed to move at all, just lying there bonelessly, staring at the pieces of the Ikea bed around him.

When Erik comes back Charles looks up at him and says, “We broke the bed.”

Erik starts laughing again and Charles reaches out to hit him in the ankle. “You have to build me a new one,” Charles tells him.

“Tomorrow,” Erik says, climbing over a couple of the boards and collapsing back onto the mattress next to Charles. “And not this Ikea crap.”

“Hmm,” Charles murmurs, rolling onto his side and pulling Erik’s arm around him. Erik scoots until he’s plastered against Charles’ back, tangling their legs together. “Something sturdy,” he says. “That won’t fall apart next time we fuck on it.”

He can feel Erik’s grin against the back of his neck before he plants a kiss there. “Sure thing,” he says.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Fix-it (Brimnes Remix)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8133445) by [Mikanskey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikanskey/pseuds/Mikanskey)




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